


Ten Years On

by DontKillBugs



Series: Weblena Week Prompts! [7]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Catharsis, Character Death, F/F, Future Fic, Married Couple, Older Characters, gloating, graveside talk, pg-13 gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 08:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontKillBugs/pseuds/DontKillBugs
Summary: Ten years after Magica de Spell's death, Lena Vanderquack returns to her gravesite.Oh, what? You think she's here to try and reach some kind of emotional understanding with that monster? Please. No. Lena's here to gloat.Weblena Week 2019, Day One: Welcome Home





	Ten Years On

The clearing was sparse. Unremarkable. It was less of a forest clearing and more of an ugly patch of dry dirt. Some ragweed dotted it here and there for flavor, but otherwise, the only noteworthy thing was a rock, placed in the middle of it all.

The spot was located in a forest, deep in the Crowatian countryside. It was remote, save for a small village a few miles east. A man named Gianni made the three-mile trek to the spot once a month to salt the earth. Scrooge McDuck had made his family very comfortable in exchange for the monthly service that was, to be frank, more an act of petty final revenge than anything.

A twig snapped under a combat boot, as a lone duck made her way through the clearing. She stopped in front of the rock, staring down at it, her hands at her sides.

At a glance, one might mistake this duck to be Magica de Spell. But further examination would reveal otherwise. This witch wore a mishmash of clothes that appeared to be pulled from various thrift shops. An unraveling sweater, worn off the shoulder. On the neckline, a small pin, striped blue, pink, and white. A long skirt, just barely brushing her boots. A collection of rings adorned her fingers, each one a different size, shape, and color. A simple amethyst pendant around her neck, the cord made from several worn, old friendship bracelets. Her hair in a more asymmetrical bob, with a blue streak winding through it. A far cry from Magica's more classic witch chic.

Her eyes, however, that was where the true difference could be found. Her eyes were peaceful, with perhaps a hint of mischief. Framing them were laugh lines, indicators of a life well lived with people worth living for.

Lena Vanderquack sighed, nudging the rock with her boot. "Hey there, you stupid old hag."

The rock was silent, as rocks are wont to do.

Lena placed her hands on her hips, glancing around. "Love what you've done with the place. I dunno what I expected. Maybe a big, ugly, spooky tree or something. But this fits. A patch of dirt." She kicked at the ground, causing a small dust cloud.

Despite herself, memories rose, unbidden, to the forefront.

_Magica, cackling as she always, always, always did._

_Magical blasts, flying indiscriminately._

_Lena's hand, grasping for their fallen guide's shotgun._

_Her finger on the trigger. The smell of iron and oil._

_An ear splitting roar. The smell of gunpowder._

_Magica, looking down at the gaping wound in her chest, looking more surprised than anything._

_Lena pulling the trigger again, emptying the other barrel. She had seen enough horror movies to know to double-tap._

_Magica, falling over into a pile with a wet thump. There was no explosion, no rush of magic, no vanishing corpse, no final roar or promise of vengeance. It was practically anticlimactic._

_After checking for Magica's lack-of-pulse almost a dozen times, Clan McDuck had burned the body. It was quick and simple. No majestic funeral pyre. Just a quick dousing from a bottle of lighter fluid and a thrown match. They had buried the ashes where she had fallen. The rock was left._

Lena chuckled. "I bet you'd say something smart, right about now. Something snarky, demeaning, that whole spiel. Something about me crawling back to you, even now. '_Eugh, welcome home, Leeeeena.'_" She finished with a mocking whinge.

She leaned over the rock. "Well, guess what? I beat you. That's what I came here to say. You chewed me up and spat me out, and I'm still here. And I'm _happy._ I have a family that loves me, _actually _loves me. And you? You're here. A wad of dirt, buried under a bigger, uglier wad of dirt."

Lena sat down, facing the stone. "Webby and I have a house now. We're married. We have a cat, too. And a coven. Violet and I started an actual coven. And I did that. I built that on my own. You were never right about a darn thing in your whole, miserable life. You think I'm here to pay respects, you old bat? Screw you. I don't owe you a thing except some spit for this grave."

Lena rose to her feet, dusting off her skirt. "So, in conclusion: screw your parenting skills, screw your whole screwed-up lineage, and most of all, screw you." She grinned, snapped, and pointed a pair of finger guns at the rock. "Boosh."

Lena turned, smiling at the figure at the edge of the clearing. Webby Vanderquack, taller but still the shorter of the two, grinned back. "You okay?"

Lena smiled, flexing her fingers. With a surprised squeak, Webby was lifted by a magical gust and gently carried forward into Lena's waiting arms.

The two ducks laughed, before leaning forward, capturing each other's lips with their own. In the setting sun, the clearing was lit a bright, brilliant orange.

Breaking the kiss, Webby leaned back, still smiling. She pointed a thumb at the rock. "May I?"

Lena stepped to the side, gesturing with both hands. "I insist."

Webby hopped forward, grabbing the large rock with one well-built hand. Reaching back, she volleyed the stone hard into the setting sunlight. There was a thump and a rustle as it landed amongst the underbrush outside of the clearing.

With a loud and lengthy _hwooork_, the two ducks spat synchronized loogies at Magica's now unmarked grave.

Lena smirked. "I dunno about you, Pink, but I am _immensely _satisfied."

Webby grinned, grabbing Lena's hand mischievously. With a quick, practiced motion, she jerked her wife forward and spun her into a dip, kissing her deeply again.

After an eternity, the two righted themselves. Webby winked. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Linking arms, the two began to make their way back to civilization. Behind them, the clearing sat, already forgotten. The two would never return there again.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Weblena Week/Month! Glad to be getting back into the swing of things. I'm hoping to try and write something for all the prompts. I doubt I'll succeed, but I do have big plans for this month.
> 
> I feel like this one could have been better, but I'm pretty satisfied with it. Sometimes forgiveness is good, sometimes the opposite is just as healthy.
> 
> Older Lena's design is based on soup-du-silence's.


End file.
